I’ll be turning 40 in March, this has been a difficult thing for me to accept. Forty has always symbolized something I never wanted to be: old. please read that word with the appropriate amount of shuddering and nose crinkling I remember looking at the forty~something~year~old women of my youth and thinking they were looking at me with something that bordered on pity, mingled with contempt, and tinged with jealousy. And they looked frumpy. Looking back, I realize that was just my own youthful misperception of grown women. In reality, they weren’t paying me or my silliness any attention. As for looking dowdy, everyone in the 80s and 90s looked old compared to now; chalk it up to the heavy makeup, big hair, and thick shoulder pads. And, truth be told, that neon wasn’t helping anyone either.

In the last few weeks, as I’ve watched the news and listened to stories of lives ended way too soon, I’ve realized something: forty is not old. Forty is a blessing; a blessing that not everyone is given. Psalm 103:15~18 {NIV} says:

(15) As for man, his days are like grass, he flourishes like a flower of the field;

(16) the wind blows over it and it is gone, and its place remembers it no more.

(17) But from everlasting to everlasting the LORD’s love is with those who fear him, and his righteousness with their children’s children ~

(18) with those who keep his covenant and remember to obey his precepts.

So I will accept this blessing of life and the wrinkles that come with it. The grays, I may have to fight until I come across the last bottle of dye. But I want my life to be one of gratitude for the continuous gift of His eternal love, mercy, and grace. I know that He did not spare my life from premature birth, car accidents, and cancer for no reason, Jeremiah 29:11 tells me that He has plans for my life. Therefore, my vow to myself and to God is to live this life that He has blessed me with to the fullest.